Well, I’m glad that’s over

A list of clothing I wore on our passage from Mazatlan to Baja: Wool socks; Warm slippers; Wool underwear; Fleece pants; Foul-weather bibs; Tank top; Long-sleeved shirt; Fleece snap-T; Windbreaker; Additional fleece jacket with built-in windbreaker; Lifejacket, harness, tether; Foul-Weather jacket; Wool hat.

This is not what I’ve come to expect from Mexico! Not only was it super-cold (even with all the gear, I was hiding behind the dodger), it was windier than expected; more forward than expected (meaning, we couldn’t really sail—we had the main up, but the motor was working full-time); and the waves from the north did not play well with the swell from the south. In brief: not our best passage.

Possibly our last overnight, though, which I’m kind of enjoying. Michu likes the quiet of the night passage, but in a weird twist, I’ve become more anxious about them as time has gone on. Just about every horror story we’ve heard on this trip has involved something terrible In The Dark Of Night. You can’t see the wind gusts; you can’t see the waves (although we did have a pretty nice moon this time); you can’t see the unlit panga or longline. It can be amazing and peaceful, and you see things that you just can’t find in other places—phosphorescent dolphins and stars lit up in the absence of light pollution, coastal cities twinkling on shore and cruise ships like floating bonfires—but I still spend a lot of time talking myself down from my crazy place.

The boat came through better than the people. Michu was actively puking by midnight, an illness we ascribed to seasickness but turned into a four-day disaster we’re now blaming on some shrimp tacos. We’ve been recovering in Los Frailes, listening to the northers howl down the Gulf. It’s beautiful here, and we’re well-protected; so happy to finally be in Baja.